


Hideaway

by Anabeauce



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton Needs a Hug, M/M, Self-Hatred, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 09:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18688672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anabeauce/pseuds/Anabeauce
Summary: “Uh, Barton?”Clint jumped upright, jerked from his thoughts as he finally thought to look around the room to source the voice and-What the fuck.There, perched on top of one of the washing machines, was Bucky Barnes.And he wasnaked.





	Hideaway

**Author's Note:**

> This involves a LOT of self hatred/self loathing, and attempts at using sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism. Be aware!  
> Thank you SO much to @feathers_and_cigarettes for beta-ing and cheerleading!

Padding barefoot down the hallway with a blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders, Clint tried not to think about it being the fourth night that week where he had forgone sleeping in his apartment and gone to, of all places, the laundry room. 

It wasn’t like it was an uncomfortable place; Tony had made sure that everything was, well, perfect. The bed and couch were comfortable, the walls decorated with targets and even a poster Tony had somehow dug up from Clint’s circus days. The walls were even soundproof, so he didn’t have to take his aids out every time Steve and Tony were being particularly loud next door. There was no reason for him to dislike his place in the tower, supposedly his new home. 

Clint hated it.

It was so comfortable, so  _ expensive, _ so perfectly tailored to his every need. He didn’t deserve it. 

Not that he wasn’t grateful, he just didn’t understand why Tony bothered giving him nice things: he only messed them up. Even his aids, stronger than any others available in the world, were regularly broken and needed replacement. Every time he came back to Tony with a broken pair, he wondered if this would be the inevitable day that Tony snapped, and realized what a fuckup Clint was, how much of a disaster his life was, how he didn’t deserve nice things because he never took care of them well enough and always broke them. He destroyed and corrupted everything he touched. 

How long after that would it be before the rest of the Avengers caught on? He didn’t belong there. He wasn’t a super soldier like Steve or Bucky, or brilliant like Tony or Bruce. He wasn’t a spy or assassin like Natasha, a god like Thor, or an infinity-stone powered android like Vision. He didn’t have magic or strength or even high tech weapons. He was just a human who ran away to join the circus and happened to be pretty good with a bow and arrow. What was he doing here? 

Clint blinked quickly, trying to avoid the tears that threatened to fall. Memories began to stir, of angry shouts and things thrown, a hand grabbing his shirt, the foul scent of his father’s whiskey-heavy breath on his face. 

_ You’ll never be shit, boy. You ain’t got it in you.  _

Clint burst into the laundry room, eyes watering and leg burning, speeding up unconsciously as his thoughts took control. He wasn’t certain how long he had been sprinting, but it was long enough that the cut across his right thigh, stitches still thankfully intact, had begun to pulse with pain again. His shoulders sagged and he began to slide to the floor in despair. He couldn’t even take a walk through the building he was supposed to live in without re-injuring himself, even if the wound had initially been acquired in battle.

“Uh, Barton?”

Clint jumped upright, jerked from his thoughts as he finally thought to look around the room to source the voice and- 

_ What the fuck.  _

There, perched on top of one of the washing machines, was Bucky Barnes. 

And he was  _ naked.  _

Well, actually, no - he was wearing what might be the smallest, tightest black pair of black briefs Clint had ever seen, and they left exactly nothing to imagination. He flinched slightly and looked away.

_ Don’t deserve him, don’t deserve this. He’s so perfect. Who am I to want him? _

“Clint!” Bucky’s voice had more force to it as he slid off the washing machine and stepped closer to him. He stayed a few steps away, hesitant. “Are you alright?”

Finally, Clint found words. “Oh, yeah, sorry.” His voice sounded rough, even to his own ears. “Uh, what’re you doing down here?” He looked at the floor, hoping Bucky wouldn’t notice that he was still shivering.

Bucky stared at him for a moment, then allowed his usual smirk to creep up despite the concern in his eyes. “I could be askin’ you the same thing. Something tells me you ain’t here for laundry.” He stepped back to lean on the washer once more, waiting a beat before he continued. “I don’t like everything being done for me. Doesn’t feel right. Least I can do is run some of my own laundry every now and then, even if I forget and gotta do it in the middle of the night sometimes.”

Clint glanced up and took in Bucky’s expression. His soft blue eyes were friendly and open and Clint just  _ wanted. _ He hated himself for it, knew he didn’t deserve him, but he wanted anyway. Wanted to curl up in Bucky’s arms, see his eyes soft and gentle looking into his own, wanted to sleep by him and feel  _ safe. _

_ Stupid. Stupid. Why would he want anyone like you? You don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t belong here.  _

Bucky shifted against the washing machine, looking vaguely uncomfortable, and Clint snapped back to reality once more, realizing he hadn’t actually responded to Bucky’s admission. He hurriedly tried to form a response, which of course didn’t come out quite right. 

“Sorry, I, uh, I guess I get that. I sleep here a lot.”  _ What the fu- why did I say that. What the fuck what the fuck what the fu- _

“That makes sense.” 

_ What. _

Bucky’s lips held the ghost of a smile as he looked down, then to Clint’s face in an almost shy manner. “No one comes in here, it’s generally empty and quiet. Good hiding places. Last place anyone’d check to find you. And the dryers keep the floor kinda warm, even when they’re off. I can see why you’d like it.” 

Clint stared. His brain seemed to have momentarily shut down. Bucky was supposed to ridicule him. There was no valid reason for him to hide in the laundry room night after night when he had a perfectly good apartment - except Bucky had just given a reason. 

Five, actually.

A wave of affection and gratitude washed over Clint, bringing a soft smile to his face even amongst the confusion that still gripped him. Bucky wasn’t disgusted with his weakness. Bucky didn’t judge him. Bucky was such a good person, so wonderful and kind and understanding and patient to put up with him. 

Clint needed to repay him somehow, to show how grateful he was.

His eyes fell to the tight black briefs. 

_ Go on, make it up to him. It’s all you’re good for. You know he likes it, anyway. He’ll never want you for anything else.  _

He pulled himself up into the best impression of sex on legs he could muster and let his blanket drop. He knew he didn’t look like much - he wore what he had gone to bed in, thin pajama pants with nothing underneath and a holey, faded t shirt, but perhaps it could be enough to show Bucky how  _ grateful  _ he was. 

“Well, if you think it’s so comfortable,” Clint purred, slowly working his eyes back up Bucky’s frame, “I think I know how we might pass the time till the machine is done.” 

He made his way across the room, taking in every detail of Bucky’s face as he realized what was happening. Surprise quickly gave way to heat, and Bucky stepped forward to meet Clint in a kiss, wrapping his arms around Clint’s spry frame. 

This was hardly the first time the two had shared a kiss - their purposefully unspoken whatever-the-fuck had been going on for nearly a month now. It rarely went beyond a quick fuck to blow off steam - no feelings were brought into it but Clint relished every experience. He knew Bucky would never return his feelings, and hated himself for using their meetings to satisfy his want for so much more. 

_ Selfish. Coward. You claim to love him but use him. If he knew, he would be disgusted.  _

Clint whimpered into Bucky’s mouth, fighting tears as he clung to the persona he had picked out. His hands roamed Bucky’s body as he broke the kiss to work his way down the other man’s jaw and neck, sucking and biting and worshipping every inch he could reach. 

He tried to still his shaking hands as he dropped to his knees and reached for the sinfully tight briefs that had caught his eye mere minutes before. 

Bucky tilted his head back and moaned, fingers tangling themselves in Clint’s hair as Clint pulled the underwear down and wrapped his lips around Bucky’s half-hard cock. Clint relished the noise, trying to lose himself in the familiar motions as he sucked Bucky to full hardness. 

_ Show him how grateful you are. He’s so good to you and you use him in return. Give him your body. That’s all you have. All you’re good for. Bucky would never have noticed you if you weren’t an easy fuck. _

Clint flinched as the voice finally struck a nerve he couldn’t ignore. His head jerked and he felt Bucky flinch with a pained gasp. 

“Shit! Watch your teeth, Barton!” 

Horror coursed through Clint, freezing him in place. He’d hurt him. All he wanted was to show Bucky what he meant to him, to repay him for his kindness and patience, and he’d fucked it up. 

_ You hurt him. You’re toxic. You’ll never be loved, who could love you? You don’t deserve him. Your fault. He hates you. You can’t do anything right! Worthless! _

The emotions began to boil over as he dropped off of Bucky, his entire body shaking as the tears overwhelmed him. Clint’s head hit his knees. 

“I’m sorry.” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t want to hurt you, I just wanted to thank you, you’re so _ good _ . I’m sorry for making you put up with me, I don’t deserve it,  _ please  _ don’t hate me _. _ ” 

Through his frantic cries, he heard Bucky saying something softly, but couldn’t understand him or even quiet himself. 

_ Selfish. You can’t even listen to him. Why would he lo- _

Clint’s thoughts sputtered out as a warm, heavy weight draped across his shoulders, soothing him. He struggled briefly, but strong arms wrapped around him and he felt himself be pulled into Bucky’s chest. Lips against his temple murmured soft words of comfort as he panted and shook, tears still falling for several minutes before his eyes finally dried and breathing returned to normal. Slowly, slowly, Clint came back to himself and  _ what the fuck just happened? _

“I believe you had a panic attack, is what just happened.” 

Clint flinched. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

Before he could even attempt to form a response, Bucky continued. “Think you probably were in one when you came in too. Did one wake you up?”

“Uh. Maybe?” Clint wasn’t sure where he expected this conversation to go, but this wasn’t it. “I don’t really remember.” 

Bucky nodded, breath still warm on the side of Clint’s face. “S’alright, Clint. You’re doing better now, right?”

Clint hesitated before responding. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Bucky hummed in response, more a feeling than a sound, and holy shit he was still naked and Clint was in his lap _. _ He had grabbed Clint’s blanket, which was feeling awfully thin right about now, and wrapped it around Clint’s shoulders, pulling him into his lap. 

It felt wonderful and warm and safe at the time, but all Clint could think about was how he didn’t deserve any of it.

_ Not with him. I hurt him. Oh God, I hurt him, how could I do that, what was I thinking, can’t do anything right stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid worthless! _

Clint did his best to fling himself across the room. 

Bucky let him go, seeming to understand that restraint would likely only aid the next wave of panic. Clint scrambled across the floor, losing track of his blanket in the process, until he was about five feet from Bucky with his back pressed to a laundry machine, panting, eyes darting. Bucky looked after him, blue eyes soft but impossible to read beyond that. 

“I’m sorry.” Clint rasped. “I’m so so sorry. I - everything’s fucked up and it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” 

He brought his head down to his knees then, waiting for the backlash, for Bucky to leave or to tell Clint to get out, that he didn’t want to see him anymore. 

Clint understood. He would leave, but he was selfish, and couldn’t quite bring himself to go until he was made to.

“What for?” Bucky asked and Clint’s head jerked upright. 

“Catching me with a tooth while having a panic attack? For  _ having _ a panic attack?” A sad smile played across Bucky’s face for a moment. “Clint, why would I be upset with you? Everyone has rough nights, myself included. I’m not gonna stop loving you because of one, and I’m certainly not gonna hate you. I don’t understand why you tried to keep things going when you were so upset, but I’m not angry about it. I just want to understand, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

Clint’s brain slowed to a halt. He stared open mouthed at Bucky across the room. “What,” he croaked, “did you just say?” 

Bucky sighed. “Did you really not notice? Think about the past few weeks.” 

Clint did think about them, he thought about them all the time. In the past few weeks he’d probably been happier than he had for most of his life. Every morning he woke up and got coffee with Bucky and then they went to the range. Every evening they played video games or watched movies. And in between, they usually found something to do… together. It was bliss. Clint had thought he was taking advantage, or that the other man simply didn’t have anything else to do. But looking at Bucky’s face, processing his words, it all began to make sense. 

While Clint explored his private revelation, uncertainty began to cloud Bucky’s face. “If, uh, if I’m reading this wrong, I’ll go,” he said quietly, eyes flickering to the floor. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, I know you’ve probably got a lot on your mind right now. I’m not trying to be pushy.” He pulled his legs underneath him and stood, the motion finally startling Clint from his stupor. 

“Bucky,” he whispered, knowing he would immediately have his attention. “Ah, fuck, I’ve never been good at this. But  _ please _ don’t go.” 

Bucky nodded, still not meeting Clint’s eyes, but not moving towards the door, either. Clint sighed and scrambled to his feet, wincing as the stitches on his thigh tugged the skin. He took a step forward, then hesitated, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

_ He doesn’t really want you. He’s ready to leave! You’ve hurt him.  _

“I love you.” Clint saw Bucky’s face jerk up, though his eyes still didn’t reach Clint’s. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not, but he tried to push the pressing anxiety away as he stammered on. “I don’t know much, but I do know that. I don’t… I didn’t think it was possible for you to feel the same. Buck, you’re just so good and I want to stay with you and I feel selfish to say it and to feel like this when I’m such a disaster and you deserve so much more, and you’re so patient with me and so  _ good _ . I just wanted to show you how happy you make me, but,” Clint’s voice was beginning to rise again, panic threading its way back into his brain as his thoughts churned. 

_ Not enough. Don’t deserve him. Selfish. _

Bucky closed the distance between them so quickly Clint barely had time to react before Bucky’s hand was gently cupping his cheek. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, wrapping his other arm around Clint’s waist.”You’re what I want. I think it’s safe to say you want me too, right?”

Clint looked up hesitantly, finding Bucky’s soft blue eyes with his own. “Yeah?”

A smile lit up Bucky’s features, sweet and pure and kind. “Well,” he breathed, dropping his hand from Clint’s face to pull him closer. “I think that’s kind of all that matters. At least for tonight.” 

With that, Bucky leaned up and kissed Clint softly, and Clint saw sparks. 

He pulled back from the kiss, smiling, and then wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck to embrace him. “Thank you,” he whispered, before closing his eyes to breathe in his scent, the cigarettes, gunpowder, and something dark and sweet that was all Bucky. 

Seconds, minutes, or hours later, Bucky pulled away. Clint wordlessly ran his hand down Bucky’s side, catching his hand in his own before meeting the man’s blue eyes with his own. He still hesitated - the voice in his head had finally settled, but where did they go from here?

Bucky smiled and tugged him gently by the hand as he retrieved Clint’s blanket, forgotten on the floor, and moved to the corner where Clint always settled. 

Clint had no idea how Bucky knew exactly the right thing to do, but he was too tired to question as he allowed himself to be tugged to the floor. He stripped off his shirt to make a pillow for the both of them and quietly groaned with pleasure as he lay down, kinks in his back working themselves out now that he was no longer upright. 

Bucky moved behind him, the skin of his chest warm and solid against Clint’s back. Clint sighed, settling back into Bucky’s arms and relishing in the feeling of being loved and safe. 

As Bucky called out to Jarvis to have the AI turn the lights out, Clint removed his aids and set them aside, smiling to himself. 

He had no idea what tomorrow would bring. No way of knowing how things would end with Bucky, or what challenges they’d face in the morning. But wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, at least for tonight, Clint wasn’t worried. He just snuggled into the safe arms of the man who loved him, and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
